Podunk
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: Mirage takes an amnesic Buddy to live a life of peace in the midwest. But what happens when a freshly twenty Violet discovers the pair? A lighter Synlet fic, a b-day gift dedicated to Apolianne. album at my livejournal
1. Chapter 1

She doesn't call herself Mirage anymore, just Babe, because _"that's what you used to call me," _she tells the redheaded man who wakes up with her in the morning. Never in her life did she think she'd be reduced to a sexist nickname, but it's her secret identity and secrets must be kept for the greater good.

The locals don't know what to make of her olive skin, white hair, or sylph-like figure. At least Buddy looks MidWest with his freckles and lean muscles. And he shares their passion for growing their own food and working on the farm mechanics, so they accept her as "Buddy's woman," which is fine with her.

Buddy's long hair is shorter than it was before, though by church-going standards it's still pretty long. He's tan with deep brown freckles and leaned his muscles from the hard work he performs now, no longer able to rely on million dollar machines and multiple willing hands. He doesn't pig out on sweeties and treats like he used to, perfectly happy with her organic healthy lifestyle, so his skin has cleared up as well. There are no existing photos that show him past the age of 13, and none of the witnesses from the Metroville Incident can actually give a good description of him, so Mirage really doesn't worry that someone will identify him. She knows she can protect her bionic man.

_"Hey Babe,"_ Buddy sometimes asks, _"would you get my meds for me? My jaw is starting to go numb."_

And she hurries into their farmhouse to grab the right needle to inject him with the tissue stimulant the doctors at SyndroCorp deliver monthly. Sometimes she wonders if he remembers what it feels like to have a normal human body, but she doesn't dare ask. And sometimes he wants her to explain the "car accident" that tore off both his legs and one of his arms and ripped off his lower jaw, because _"Johnny down at the feed store lost his hand in a baler and all he's got is a crappy hook, while my parts are so real no one believes they're fake." _And once again she tells him that all of his surgery was experimental and not available to the public. It always leaves Buddy feeling bad, but she reminds him that he can't save everyone.

And sometimes he wants to know about his life before he lost his memory and she always gives him the same run-around answer of, _"What does it matter? The life you have now is what's worth remembering."_

So Mirage spirited Buddy away from the secret hospital and bought farmland, a good 6,400 square acres, in the middle of Nowhere. Home is no longer the secret base on an exotic island, but an old two-story farmhouse with peeling paint. It feels so right though, so perfect. On the turn off down the long gravel driveway to the farm, is a large ornately carved and painted sign that reads "Terra Firma Farmstead." She had Buddy build it, a project he had enjoyed because it involved using his hands. They grow organic foods: corn, sugar beets, beans, barley, and a gorgeous vegetable garden, complete with pumpkin patch. Gardening and planting feel natural to her because they had to grow their own food on Nomanisan, and Buddy has always been one to enjoy getting his hands dirty. Terra Firma Farmstead is their private heaven on earth, complete with red barn, silos, and a large apple tree in front of the house.

Their farm is thirty miles away from the nearest town, Sweetwater Creek, which you have to say, _"Swee'wad'er Crick,"_ real fast like the locals. The little town, population 51, is a place that Mirage has grown fond of, which really surprises her; she always thought that the lack of sophistication would turn her off. The bar, "Salas Realtop" acts as the hub of the small town: the owner's wife has a room in the back where she acts as the local beautician and seamstress. Mirage thinks that Michelle Salas does an excellent job at manicures. And in the bar's storage room Mike Salas performs basic medical practice, tattoos and men's haircuts. And lastly, it serves as the town's post office. Sometimes after getting haircuts, she and Buddy will sit at the counter together and share a cold beer and catch up on the town gossip as the locals filter in after work at the mill.

There is no school, nor grocery store and no hotel. There is rarely any traffic and only one stop sign.

The next town, Lander, which is another fifty miles up the road and on Saturdays, she and Buddy drive to Lander's fairground to participate in the summer farmer's market. Lander has the Real Hospital, Real Post Office, and Real School, though it's not a Real City. A Real City is London, Tokyo, Manhattan, Metroville. Buddy is fascinated with the increase of traffic, increase of people, and increase of noise, but she nervously reminds him that before The Accident, he hated cities and he allows himself to agree because,

"_Babe knows best."_

Mirage never allowed Buddy to stay the night with her before, but he shares the bed with her now. He has a large vintage Mr. Incredible poster framed above their bed, his trophy, and she can't believe that after everything that's happened, his obsession with the hero is still intact. Sometimes in the cover of night, he tells her to call him "Mr. Incredible" and she pretends to grudgingly comply, though she really does imagine the man she could have had. Blond hair, blue-eyed, the all-American boy. Buddy actually got the Super's emblem tattooed on his upper arm one afternoon while she was at the hairdresser's.

He enjoys holding her as they drift off to sleep, wrapping his strong arms around her and burying his face in her hair. She enjoys knowing they're safe together, here, alone in this small, remote, and unimportant place.

Podunk.


	2. Chapter 2

It's mid-June and hot, hot, hot outside, so Mirage busies herself in the cool depths of the barn, oiling and cleaning their tractors. These big green machines are no where near as advanced as something Buddy's clever mind could come up with, but even she has to admit: John Deer sure knows what they're doing. She's made an organized list on the back of a piece of scrap paper: _"Clean_ _freezers," "Wash windows," "Clean tractors,"_ _"Visit Mr. Garfield."_

She likes lists and has only the tractor part to finish. She turns around to the sound of gravel being crunched underneath work boots and Buddy strolls into the barn, a stalk of grass hanging out of his mouth.

"Babe, Ah reckon this hay needs some rollin' in. Whadda yew think?" he asks with a fake, exaggerated Mid-Western accent.

He gives her a sly grin and she holds back her laughter, but when he tosses her into the pile of hay, she can't keep from showing her happiness. This is the Buddy she remembers, the one that wasn't Syndrome. Fortunately, being in the middle of nowhere means they can be as loud as they want, and Mirage is sure that the sounds they make would get them arrested for noise pollution elsewhere.

He finishes in her fifteen minutes later and they pant, completely spent.

"I was trying to work, Buddy," she chides before licking his neck.

"I thought you might need a break," he moans under her touch.

She's ready to go again and she wants him to want her more than anything. And indeed she is spellbinding to this mere mortal.

* * *

Later at the beginning of dusk, she finds Buddy out on the back porch leaning against one of the old wooden support beams. He's watching the sunset behind the cornfield, lost in thought. Mirage watches him through the screen door for a few minutes, simply loving his angular silhouette and stillness. The light catches on his orange hair, giving an aura of fire, a halo for the redeemed saint she lives with. She wishes it was pulled up in that ridiculous Syndrome hairstyle, so she could imagine it was a large flame atop those broad shoulders. Carefully she steps out of the house, making sure she doesn't make any noise with the doors squeaky hinges. She can tell he hasn't heard her yet, and part of her still enjoys being able to surprise him, the all-knowing supervillian. She stands beside him and rests a thin hand on his arm. He jerks his head over, looking incredibly startled… the same way he did when Mr. Incredible—

Well, that doesn't matter anymore. This is Buddy, not Syndrome.

Buddy looks at her and then smiles, placing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. She closes her eyes and basks in his warmth, like a flower with its first taste of sun. She' s lost in his size, the lily of the valley against the mighty oak tree and with her head against his chest, she can hear the steady, constant beat of his heart. Mirage wonders what he's thinking about, if he ever recalls blurry memories of the past. Would he tell her if he had flashbacks? Probably not, she decides remorsefully. He trusts her with everything, but she can tell that there is a slight seed of doubt in his mind, which she has unintentionally let take root; how can he have faith in her if she won't tell him whom he really is? But that's her fault and she'll just have to live with it.

"Can we have pancakes for dinner?" he asks softly, his voice breaking the perfect silence on the farm.

"Sure, Buddy. _Anything_ you want," she murmurs and turns her adoring face to him.

"Gimme a kiss," he whispers and she sees the devotion in his eyes.

She stands on her tiptoes and lets her lips meet his, joining them together in a momentary union.

"Lemme get started on the food," she says embracing him as their lips leave one another.

* * *

They watch a lot of reality TV shows because they both enjoy watching people go through orchestrated struggles. It's not too different from watching Supers get killed by Omnidroids, really. Same fear, same anticipation, same exhilaration, same cutthroat competition, only these people have to use their wits to survive, no extraordinary powers of flight, strength or fire. And, she has absolutely banned the news channels from the house, to which she explains,

"_I don't want to bring all the world's sorrow into the house." _

Buddy says it's okay and doesn't argue—he doesn't have reason to watch the news, anyways. There is no internet or computer in the house and she tells him that there never will be either here on the farm. Buddy thinks it because she's worried he'll become addicted; Mirage knows it's because he could find his real identity and all hell would break loose.

There is only one phone in the house, in the kitchen, and it's rarely used. Occasionally they call Realtop to ask about road conditions in the winter, but no one ever calls them and they have no friends. Mirage actually has no idea what the phone's ring sounds like. Buddy wanted cell phones at one point, but she pointed out that there wasn't a cell tower in miles, so it would be pointless. And that was the truth!

Tonight is the Big Brother marathon leading up to the season finale and she's totally engrossed in the drama between two of the girls, though she has noticed Buddy's distracted behavior.

"Do we have anymore of your boysenberry syrup?" he finally asks.

She gives him a funny look. "I think so. Why?"

"I want to lick it off you," he says, his face a mask of innocence.

"Buddy!" she squeals, hitting him in the chest with one of the throw pillows.

He gives a devilish laugh and dives on top of her.

They completely miss the season finale.


	3. Chapter 3

The old pickup they use is powder blue, rusted, dented, and fondly loved. It's a stick shift and usually she drives while Buddy leans out the window and stares out at the flat horizon, passing the eternities of crop fields that they and others have planted. The pickup's A/C is broken, so the windows are almost always down and the radio plays one of the many country stations because Buddy loves singing along to Dolly Parton, and she finds it incredibly intimate that he sings in front of her. Syndrome would **NEVER** have done that. They usually ride without seatbelts because they both get a thrill out of breaking the law and because they just don't want to wear them; that rebellious nature has stayed with both of them—they may not be killing people anymore, but they're still making the effort to misbehave. The truck's bed has a spare tire, tools, a five-gallon gas container filled with water and a bale of golden hay, all things that come in handy in their rural pocket of the world. Buddy has devoted hours, days, weeks and years fixing it up so that it runs better than a new car, the only machinery she allows him to touch. She doesn't want him to get carried away and start creating—that might bring out the side of him she no longer wants. Syndrome isn't welcome in **their** old pickup, he isn't welcome in **their** farm, he isn't welcome in **her** Buddy.

They bounce down the old road back to the farm and suddenly Buddy bellows, **"STOP!"**

Mirage hits the brakes as hard as she can and they both fly forward into the dashboard. As she straightens herself, she realizes two things: she _should_ be wearing the seatbelt and that Buddy has leapt out of the truck and is running towards the deep ditch between the road and the neighboring cornfield. She puts the truck in park, letting it idle, and she is **furious** that Buddy almost severely injured both of them for the spare parts he likes to collect, when he shouts,

"Babe! Get over here quick! I think that she's **DEAD**!"

Startled, Mirage darts out of the truck and runs around the back; she leaps over the edge of the steep ditch, falling on her ass and sliding down the five-foot dirt embankment to Buddy's side. He's kneeling in the dirt, cradling a limp body and she licks her suddenly dry lips—the last thing they need is a body to be found on their property. She looks at the black-haired girl and quickly finds her pulse, noting the blanch, sagging skin. There is dirt on her clothes and body, making Mirage wonder if she fell into the ditch.

"She's alive, Buddy. Heat exhaustion," Mirage says then looks closer at the girl's face, narrowing her eyes. "I know her from somewhere."

Buddy's boyish face looks surprised. "Where?"

Mirage frowns as she thinks. "I don't know. Maybe TV?"

Buddy's still supporting the girl's lifeless form, clutching her close to him as he looks down at her face. He looks scared, perhaps like he wants to cry.

"What do we do?" he whimpers.

The Mirage she used to be on Nomanisan takes over, becoming nothing but cold, solid business. She has always been a firm efficient machine—it is **her time**. "Let's get her into the truck and we'll get her back to the farm. She needs to get out of the sun and have some water put in her," she barks, standing up, hands on hips.

Buddy lifts the girl and climbs out of the ditch with her in the crook of his left elbow. Mirage follows closely behind, crawling out of the ditch, dry soil collecting under her fingernails and dirtying her bare knees. Buddy offers a hand to pull her over the top and then they run back to the idling truck.

"Cut the hay bale and spread it on the truck's bed. Take off your shirt and pour some water on it," she orders, jumping up into the back of the vehicle.

He rummages through the battered red box, still holding the girl close. "Hold on, sweetheart," he says, "I can't find the wire cutters."

She jerks the toolbox away from him. "Let me."

He sets the girl down on the cab's seat, looking at her strangely, but Mirage doesn't have time to think about the way he looks at anyone. She's got the hay ready and she has him lift the body into the truck bed, sleeping beauty on her bedding of golden stalks. Buddy hands her his shirt, sopping, and she drapes the wet article over the girl's upper body and face, trying to keep it covered from the sun and to bring moisture back to the feverish heat of her baked skin. Mirage's starting to heat up herself, though she tans as apposed to burns, and hopes that this little mouse of a girl will make it to the house. Sweat is running rivets down her skin, irritating her and she squirms.

'_We wouldn't have even seen you,'_ she thinks as she looks at her strange new companion here in the truck, angry with herself for almost missing her. _'You were practically __**invisible**__!'_

Buddy's still standing there, awaiting her instructions patiently, and Mirage leans her head to the driver seat.

"Drive," she orders.

Usually permission to drive would have him grinning like a child, but his face is grim, obviously more concerned about the fate of this young woman than the privilege. He runs around the front of the vehicle and jumps in, slamming the door. She braces herself against the back, hooking her spindly fingers on the hot metal as Buddy revs the truck and screams, "HANG ON, HERE WE GO!"

They go tearing down the road, Mirage's bony body bouncing violently against the hard vehicle, but she's a trooper and is more worried about Little Dark Hair than the bruises that will form on her ass by tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

They get home and rush the girl to one of the upstairs, laying her lifeless form in one of the dimly-lit guest bedrooms.

"Get me some club soda, cranberry juice, and a pitcher of water," Mirage orders and Buddy sprints off.

"We've got lemonade in the pitcher!" he shouts loudly from the kitchen, like it were an intense obstacle.

"Pour it _out_!" she shouts back, annoyed.

Mirage pulls back the girl's eyelids and checks the pupils set within the purple irises. Looks alright.

"Here!" Buddy says breathlessly as he balances a pitcher of cool water, carton of cranberry juice and six-pack of club soda.

"Alright. I need you to pour a can of club soda into the cranberry juice and hand me the pitcher.

Mirage takes the moment of his distraction to imagine a spoon in her hand and it appears. She takes the spoon and sticks it into the water, readying herself to believe the spoon actually exists; that's how her powers work—the mirages become real as long as the viewer thinks they are.

_Just don't imagine the water in the spoon's bowl,_ she says to herself and carefully puts the spoon to her lips, swallowing the liquid.

She smiles, relieved. She can always taste illusions and thankfully, this is actual water. She carefully proceeds to spoon the water into the girl's mouth.

The girl readily drinks the water and Mirage is careful not to give her too much at one time so she doesn't choke.

"Mixed."

"Okay, now get me a shot glass."

He hurries out of the room once more and Mirage can feel the girl's skin has cooled significantly. Buddy returns with the shot glass less than a minute later and she fills it with the cranberry cocktail. She lets the girl drink from the small shot glass, carefully dabbing away the bit of juice that dribbles out of the corner of her mouth. Mirage carefully dampens the girl's forehead and once again tries to place her face. She feels it hiding just beyond reach and goes through the schedule of reality shows she watches. Not Survivor, not Rock of Love, not Big Brother. Where, where, where?

Buddy seems to know what she's thinking. "She's really pretty," he comments. "Maybe she was that girl on America's Next Top Model."

"You have her confused with that Asian girl. This is not her," Mirage says shaking her head and then looks at him suspiciously. "Is she familiar to you?"

"No. But don't worry, when she wake's up we can ask her who she is."

Mirage continues supping the girl the juice until she's sure that the girl is hydrated again. Buddy watches the whole time with an innocent curiosity that she's never seen before. It's almost an hour later when the girl's eyes flutter open for a moment and lock onto Mirage's before rolling back into her skull. Her not-quite-thin, not quite-full-lips move slightly but no words come out.

Mirage sighs; this is just like when she and Syndrome sat back in the surveillance room when they set an Omnidroid loose on a Super.

She gets up from the edge of the mattress and stretches. She places the spoon on the dresser next to the bed and turns to her red-head. "I'm going back to the kitchen. All we can do now is wait."

"All right. I'll clean this up," he says, gesturing to the array of beverages and containers.

She nods, giving him a grateful smile at his helpfulness, feeling completely drained now that the adrenaline rush is over.

She goes down the stairs, into the kitchen; she sees the wok sitting out on the counter and goes over to it. Buddy's poured the lemonade into it and she sighs. Buddy can be so exasperatingly cute at times, solving problems in his own unique way and she ladles herself a cup of lemonade. She sits down in her usual kitchen chair; it faces east, looking out the kitchen window where she can see out to the fields. Corn stalks are waving at her softly and she rests her head on her propped up hand. Buddy comes down the stairs loudly and sits down across from her.

She gives him a fond smile and he gives a toothy grin back; sometimes she wonders if she ought to get him braces, but then that would lead to dental records and x-rays… it would be too much hassle for the sake of vanity.

Buddy teases, his eyes twinkling. "You really freaked that girl out. She keeps calling you a _mirage_."

Suddenly she knows who the girl is. Mirage can feel her heart stop as an overwhelming wave of dread and confusion overtake her. She tries to remain calm and relaxed as she gets up from her chair, making her way slowly to the stairs.

"I'm going to go check on her again," she murmurs.

Buddy nods and looks out the window, oblivious to what is going on in her mind.

She should have known. She should have sensed it. She should have left her in that ditch to die! Mirage forces her hands not to shake, wonders how vulnerable she is wearing daisy dukes and an old button-up. Oh, Ceres, why didn't she think about protecting herself before protecting this stranger? Why did she allow herself to do humanitarian crap, why didn't she just call an ambulance? Now she's brought the enemy here, into her own home, where Buddy is supposed to be safe, where she had promised him he would be safe! Her heart is thumping wildly in her chest, a frightened hare in a cage, unsure where to run, unsure if running will even help at this point. She has no guns, no weapons, nothing to protect herself with when obviously this girl recognizes her.

Mirage reaches the guest bedroom, and balls up her fists, anticipating the worst. She stands in the doorway and coolly folds her slender bronze arms across her chest.

_Incredigirl._


	5. Chapter 5

The girl is sitting up now and in the dark, her eyes glitter dangerously. Mirage quietly shuts the door behind her and puts on her game face.

"I know who you are, _Incredigirl_."

"And I know who you are, _Mirage_, and I know that man is Syndrome. He said we're on your farm. What are you going to do? Hold me prisoner here, then kill me?" The girl's voice isn't as childish as it was on Nomanisan and it's raspy sounding.

Mirage frowns. "You've watched too many farm house horror films. I won't hurt you unless you pose a threat. _Now what are you doing here_?"

"I was traveling through and my car broke down. I though I could walk to the nearest town and get help."

Mirage dryly replies, "_Really_. You just happened to be passing through the middle of No Where, walking down the road that leads to where your nemeses are living."

"I was heading north when my car overheated. I saw the sign to a farm and I thought I could reach a phone to call AAA. It was really hot and the next thing I knew, I was here." The girl looks frustrated and shouts, "Look, do you think I would come looking for you by _myself_? I'd call in the Feds if I had any idea you'd be here!"

Mirage nods. "All right, Incredigirl. I'll believe that."

The girl's eyes become little slits of anger. "How is it you recognized me, but _he_ doesn't?"

"The Clark Kent Effect doesn't work on Supers like us. We can always recognize our kind, masked or not. I wasn't able to place you right away, but Buddy said you called me a "mirage." That's when I knew."

The girl sits, quietly thinking.

"I need to call my parents," she says finally.

Mirage shakes her head. "I don't think so."

The girl's voice becomes angry again. "My parents will wonder why I haven't called them, like I do _every night_. They'll think something's happened and activate the locating feature in my suit, which will lead them _here_."

Mirage is upset about this change of events, but realises that she's going to have to comply. She nods her head and beckons the girl forward. "No tricks, because I can dispose of you and pack up _rather quickly_."

The girl nods solemnly. "No tricks. Hero's honour."

Mirage smirks at the childish promise, but leads the girl downstairs to the kitchen. Buddy isn't there and she wonders momentarily where he went, but then points to the vintage teal phone on the wall behind the kitchen table. The girl takes it off its hook and dials the rotating wheel.

"Hi, Jack-Jack, it's Violet. Can I talk to Mom?" Pause. "Hi, Mom. Yeah, I'm fine, how are you? That's good. Yes, I'm eating." The girl rolls her eyes. "Hey Mom? I'm going to be gone longer than I expected. No, no, everything's fine. I'm just having fun. You don't have to do that. Okay, okay, wire me money, then. Yeah, I'll call you tomorrow. I love you, too. Bye."

Mirage raises an eyebrow. "You're staying?"

Violet crosses her arms. "I have some questions that need to be answered, _Mirage_, and you're going to do that for me."

Mirage crosses her arms, too. "Fine, but first things first. Here, my name is Babe. This is my farm, and Buddy was _never_ Syndrome."

The girl looks baffled. "What do you mean he was never Syndrome? I know he was!"

Mirage shakes her head. "No, I mean, he's lost his memory. He doesn't remember anything before the plane exploded. He thinks he was in a car crash."

"How did he survive?"

"I don't know. The plane engine ate away at both his legs, amputating them below his hipbone and the explosion ripped off his lower jaw and left arm. The SyndroCorp doctors were able to replace the damaged parts, but when it became apparent he didn't know who he was or what had happened, I thought it was the perfect chance to change his destiny. I moved us out here, where we've lived for the past seven years." Mirage lowers her voice. "Violet, I'll _kill_ you if you take this away from him. He deserves the chance to live a happy life. He's not causing trouble anymore and he never will—"

Buddy wanders into the kitchen and cheerfully asks, "You girls want some lemonade?"

Mirage's smiles as she accepts the perspiring glass he offers. "Thank you, Buddy."

Violet grumbles a curt, "_Thanks_," as she takes hers, avoiding his eyes.

He sits close to her and gives a playful grin. "Oh, don't be so quiet. I can make good conversation." He looks back and forth between them, obviously understand what is causing the foul moods. "You guys were talking about me, weren't you?"

Mirage nods. "Yes. Nothing bad, though. I was just explaining that you were in a bad car accident, that you had experimental surgery to give you prosthetics and you had severe memory loss. I though she ought to know about it so that there wasn't any confusion in the future."

"You're staying with us?" he asks.

"Yes."

Buddy rolls up his sleeves, leaning forward. "Feel these guns. This is the fake arm," he turns, "and this is the real one!"

Violet's eyes widen in shock. "Is this the Incredibles' insignia?"

Buddy looks satisfied his tattoo is getting its proper respect. "Pretty cool huh? Are you an Incredibles fan?"

"I don't think about it that often."

Buddy continues. "Mr. Incredible is the _best_. His family is okay, too, I guess, but only because they really enhance his powers."

"The Incredibles are a team and they _act_ like one," Violet snaps.

He rolls his eyes. "Of course they're a team, but _**he's**_ the best."

"Buddy, not everyone wants to listen to your Super talk," Mirage chides.

"Fine." Buddy lights up again and looks at the girl. "We're going to go to Lander, do you want to come?"


	6. Chapter 6

Mirage grips the steering wheel tightly as she drives out of Sweetwater Creek, heading north to Lander. The black-haired girl sits between her and Buddy, who is talking animatedly about the vegetable garden. Both women are silent, a fact which he seems oblivious to.

"Violet. Got a last name with that?" Buddy says with a teasing smile.

"No," she snaps.

He obviously thinks she's trying to be coy and he grins at her.

"So what do you do for a living, Violet No-Name-With-That?" Mirage butts in, hoping to get some friendly conversation going. She hates tense feelings between people.

"I'm a law student at Stanford," she says with a shrug.

Buddy looks awestruck. "You live in California?"

"Yes."

"How cool. Is it as amazing as it is on TV?"

She shrugs. "I guess."

"Where do you live?"

"Metroville."

"Metroville," he breathes. He whispers the next part like a prayer. "Mr. Incredible _lives_ in Metroville."

"Yeah." Violet shrugs, looking uncomfortable.

He snatches up Violet's hands and Mirage can feel the girl's body completely tense beside hers. "Smooth hands. Yep, yer city folk," he twangs.

The girl jerks her hands away and Mirage snaps, "Buddy, just be _quiet_. I want to listen to the music."

"You _hate_ George Straight," he grumbles and leans away.

They leave the outskirts of Sweetwater Creek and Mirage decides to try talking again.

"So, law school," she says, letting the words hang in the air.

"I want to be a lawyer. You know, fight for people's rights. Make sure criminals are brought to _justice_," Raven-Hair with Purple-Eyes says snidely, glaring at her.

Mirage retorts with a catty smile. "I'm sure your parents are proud."

Violet shrugs. "They're pissed. They wanted me to…" she glances over at their male riding companion, "go into the family business."

Buddy perks up. "Family business? Like the Mafia?"

Both Mirage and Violet look over at Buddy.

"No. Not like the _Mafia_," Violet says with disgust.

They stop talking all together.

When they arrive at Lander's Safeway, they start to fill up the metal shopping cart with the month's necessities. BandAids, popcorn, spaghetti sauce, canning jars…

"Buddy," Mirage comments, "you go get more laundry soap. I'm going to the frozen food section."

As he wanders off to another aisle, he calls out, "Get the Gardenburgers! And the original flavour, not that crappy barbeque."

Violet raises an eyebrow. "Gardenburgers?"

Mirage shrugs. "Buddy's vegetarian. He doesn't like killing things."

"You're **kidding**."

The white-haired beauty smiles, pointing to the glass fridges. "Nope. Get the original flavour, not barbeque. Damn, and I _really_ liked those."

The girl tosses the small green box into the cart. "Syndrome is a vegetarian because he doesn't like **killing** things," she repeats.

"He'll eat turkey," Mirage offers.

"This is nuts."

Mirage giggles and wraps an arm around the girl's shoulder, feeling very much like the pretty older sister. "Welcome to my world."

At the checkout line, Mirage is reading the National Enquirer's weekly horoscope when the girl hisses, "I have to pee."

"There's a bathroom over there," the cashier says, indicating a door by the exit.

Violet hurries away and Mirage raises an eyebrow. Violet still hasn't returned as Mirage and Buddy load up the truck with their food into coolers. She waves Buddy on ahead to the Buy N Large MegaMart and she stalks through the parking lot to a figure frantically counting out change at a payphone in front of the Safeway.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?"

The girl spins around and gasps, dropping the phone. Mirage smiles and wraps her arm around the girl's shoulder, steering her away from the payphone.

"Let me go!"

"You were going to call home, weren't you? To tattle?"

"So what?"

Mirage tightens her grip around the girl's shoulder. "Don't fuck around with me," she hisses, the smile still pasted on. "I'll bury you six feet under the new crop, and destroy all evidence you were here. I've done it before. I made a career of it. And I really don't want to. I like you, Violet. You remind me of myself. Besides, you swore a Hero's Honour. How would it look on your record if it said you broke a measure of good faith?"

Violet grimaces, obviously bothered by the repercussions she would face with the NSA, but before she can reply, Buddy appears, standing in front of the MegaMart's automatic doors, hands on out-of-place slender hips.

"There you girls are! What are you **doing**? I want to get new underwear!" he whines.

"We're coming, Buddy!" she calls out and he goes back inside, grumbling.

Mirage turns to the girl. "Come on, Violet, play fair. I haven't pulled any shit with you, why are you doing it to me?"

"Sorry," Violet whispers, looking ashamed.

Mirage sighs and rubs the girl's arm affectionately as they walk towards the Buy N Large. "We don't have any clothes for you and we won't be able to get to your car for a few days, so we'll get you some here," she says, hoping that it will appease the young woman.

Violet looks at her and murmurs. "Thank you."

"Just trust me, Violet."

Violet's eyes look a little sad, which surprises her. "My dad trusted you and we were almost killed."

Mirage smiles. "But who helped you escape the island? I don't want you to be killed, Incredigirl. I am entrusting you with more than my life right now—I'm entrusting you with Buddy's. Do you understand?"

"I can't trust you completely," the girl says finally as they watch Buddy approach them with an armload of awkwardly balanced shampoo bottles.

Mirage nods. "And I the same for you. But believe me when I say that Buddy is harmless."

Violet shrugs and gives a non-committed, "Okay."

Buddy dumps the ivory coloured bottles into their cart. "They're having a sale! Pantene, two for four dollars!"

Mirage tilts her head back as she laughs and wonders if she's imagining the twitch of Violet's lips trying to hold back a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

"Violet, I'm going to work in the vegetable garden this morning, you'll come help," Mirage directs the next morning, handing the girl an orchard basket and they both head out the back door and into the garden.

The screen door slams behind them, Buddy running to catch up, his hair still wet from his shower. Mirages sees Violet flinch as he walks along side her.

"Hey, sweetheart. Feeling better?" He grins at her and the girl is simply frozen in fear, to which he says, "Come on! Don't be shy!"

Mirage decides to step in. "Buddy, leave her alone. She can be shy around you if she wants. Go work on the truck," she scolds and the redhead wanders away, grumbling.

Mirage leads Violet over to the red vegetable section of the plants.

"This is the first crop of tomatoes. Pick them carefully and put them in the basket you brought out."

Violet pulls a fist-sized red berry off the vine. "These look great."

Mirage smiles proudly as she picks one. "The soil here is crap, so a lot of fertiliser goes in, but only the organic natural kind."

"Dung?"

Mirage shrugs. "Well that, but I order a couple of tons of volcanic topsoil each year and Buddy and I mix it into the earth."

"So do you guys live off the income generated?"

Mirage smirks and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right. No one can live off a farmer's salary. SyndroCorp money takes care of us."

"Rick Dicker said that Syndrome's bank accounts are frozen and if he tries to access them—"

Mirage cuts in, sensing a difficult subject. "We use my accounts. And secondly, their observation of SyndroCorp isn't as keen as they'd like to think. Before the whole incident on Nomanisan, I wove a very intricate net to protect both of us or our employees from surveillance by curious agencies. Mr. Dicker's little team of accountants won't help him."

"So you do all this work yourself?" the black haired girl asks skeptically.

Mirage shrugs again. "Well, we hire local kids to come do most of the harvesting. Partially because we have no idea what we're doing, but also because I want to make sure the kids around here have some sort of future. Most of them won't do anything but spend their lives working on these farms and the money they make on these summer jobs pays for the agriculture classes they want to take in college later on."

"So you're big on charity?" There's a biting tone of sarcasm in Violet's voice.

"Everyone deserves a bright future, Violet," she says with soft smile, knowing that she's shaming the young woman a bit.

And yes, there're the red cheeks. Their conversation becomes polite again and Mirage shows her the proper way to pull weeds, which they do until lunch.

* * *

Violet follows the white haired woman back into the house, amazed at what they've picked in a few hours. Her arms are slightly sore from pulling the weeds and she makes a mental note to work on her upper-body exercises.

Mirage goes to the front door and yells out,

"Buddy, would you like turkey sandwiches for lunch? We have fresh tomatoes and lettuce!"

The distant sound of the villain's voice reaches her ears and she cringes. "Sounds good!"

Mirage returns to Violet and points out towards the barn. "Be a lamb and get the sliced turkey out of the freezer. I have to get the canning jars out of the cellar."

Violet nods and leaves the house for the barn. The barn is large and cool, slivers of light pouring in from loose boards. She spots not one, but six freezers, each big enough to hold a body.

'_I can dispose of you and pack up rather quickly. I've done it before. I made a career of it,'_ Mirage's threats ring in her ears.

Violet wonders if there are other victims here and she goes to the first freezer, opening the lid with shaking fingers.

"Looking for where we hide the bodies?"

She spins around and sees Syndrome leaning against the barn door.

"I—I—Mir—she wanted me to get the turkey and I saw all these freezers."

He saunters over and begins to talk. "This is where we store all our winter food." He points to the freezer closest to her. "See, this one is filled with the preserves that Babe makes at the end of summer," he says and turns to the freezer after that, "And this one holds the buck I shot last year. Between you and me, hunting isn't as great as all these people say it is. I don't think I ever want to kill another animal again. Well, you know, watching it die. That's the sad part." He looks sad for a moment, then turns his attention to the third freezer. "And this one holds the geese and ducks and turkey and chickens. We raised them one year and after that, we decided no more poultry. Very, very, messy birds."

Syndrome moves to the fourth. "The turkey is in this freezer. All our store bought food is in here."

"Why would you buy deli sliced turkey when you have all that poultry in that other freezer?" Violet asks critically.

"Because Babe saves those for dinner. She doesn't like having to cut really thin slices."

"Oh."

He smiles at her and says bashfully, "You have really amazing eyes."

The hair on Violet's neck stands up. "Babe will want this turkey."

She hurries out of the barn, leaving him behind. When she gets into the house, she's still shaking and drops the frozen meat on the counter. Mirage looks up at her and smiles.

"I was beginning to think you might be lost."

"No, I'm fine," Violet says and grins, feeling like an idiot for being such a 'fraidy-cat. "I thought you might have bodies in the freezer."

Mirage laughs, tossing her head back. Violet thinks it sounds pretty.

Maybe this isn't so bad after all.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hurry, Babe! The show's about to start!" the man formerly-known-as-Syndrome shouts from the couch.

"I hope you're a reality show fan, because we watch a lot of it here." Mirage then hums along to the theme song and Violet simply observes the moment, fascinated. Two of the world's most terrible villains sitting around watching Rock of Love? No one at the NSA would believe this.

"Oh, come on! Tammy, baby, what are you thinking! That bitch is totally using you to get to Bret!" Buddy complains to the girl on the television screen, which makes Violet giggle. She doesn't notice Mirage's smile.

* * *

Michelle Salas looks surprised that Mirage has brought a guest with her during her monthly trim and weekly manicure.

"So who's this?" she asks and Mirage directs the young super to the beautician's chair.

"My niece, Violet. She came out to visit and I can't get rid of her," Mirage lies, giving Violet a playful smile and wink, which she returns.

Michelle runs her hands through Violet's long black tresses. "Your hair is just beautiful! It must run in the family."

"Cut an inch or two off, I've noticed she has some split ends."

The clock ticks away and soon their hair is trimmed and dried; onto the manicure.

Mirage lays her hands flat on the card table and Michelle asks, "What colour do you want?"

"Petal pink."

Michelle shakes her head. "I don't know why you bother getting your nails done when you have farm work to do."

Mirage shrugs her delicate shoulders. "It's just something nice I like to do for myself no matter how long it lasts."

Her nails are painted and Violet gets dark maroon. They saunter out of the back room into the Realtop and Mirage finds Buddy arguing with Mike.

"Buddy, Violet and I are going to go check her car. Don't have too many beers," she orders.

Buddy sticks his tongue out at her. "I'm going to see if Mike is really as good at darts as he says he is."

Mike grins. "We'll take good care of him, Babe."

* * *

The wind blows through their hair, 75mph down the mostly abandoned interstate.

"How are you doing, Violet?" Mirage hollers over the wind.

"Better," she says and shrugs.

Mirage smiles and shifts gears, both topic and truck wise. "Good. You know, Buddy's really trying hard to be your friend."

"And I'm trying not to run screaming," the girl replies.

"Don't worry, you'll come around. He's a real sweetheart and once you get to know him, you'll never want let him go."

Violet rolls her eyes. "He tried to kill me. I think I'll pass."

Mirage corrects her. "_Syndrome_ tried to kill you, Violet. Not Buddy."

They arrive at the car, an old white _Mitsubishi Mirage_ sitting on the side of the road and they park behind it.

"Boy, you had a long way to walk to Terra Firma," Mirage comments, impressed.

Violet smiles and pulls car keys out of her pocket. "Yeah, I know. I think I'll call AAA and have them pick my car up."

Mirage feels her heart stop. "Are you going to leave?"

"Not yet." Violet shrugs as she unlocks the car's trunk. "I like it here."

"You want to investigate more, don't you? It's okay, that's what I like about you—you're clever. I would do the same thing."

Violet smirks and pulls out a worn suitcase. "I have to make sure the most important thing is still here.

She opens it and carefully removes the lining. Mirage giggles. "I always imagined you'd have some high-tech way of keeping your suit hidden and yet here it is, tucked away like drug money in the lining of your suitcase."

Mirage "tsks", teasing, and she feels a bubble of pride when she gets Violet to laugh, too, as she pulls out the full body red and black suit.

"Cute." Mirage flips her hair, wishing it were still long like it was on Nomanisan. "I'm not being facetious, Vi. I really like the red."

Violet blushes. "Thanks."

"Now we'll need to put that somewhere safe. There's a loose board in the wall of your room. Buddy doesn't know about it."

Violet nods and Mirage slips the secret into her tote bag. As the girl puts her belongings back into the trunk, Mirage remembers a time when she was above "tote bags/stick shifts," preferring "clutch purses/sports cars." But now she's got Buddy and Violet, who feels more and more like the younger sister she never had. She never knew she wanted someone to tell secrets to, stay up late talking about boys, having the girls' day out. She wants to reach out and hug Violet, wants to thank her for showing her a dimension of life she never knew she wanted.

"Ready to go!" Violet says, breaking Mirage from her thoughts.

"'kay. Let's see how Buddy did at darts."

* * *

Having inherited the same heightened sensoria as her father, Violet hears something moving outside of her door the next morning, as she gets dressed. She yanks the door open and there is Syndrome standing outside her door, holding something in his arms.

"Oh, I wanted to give you some fresh towels." He holds them out and she frowns. Is that the Budweiser logo?

"These are _beach_ towels," she accuses.

"Yeah, but they've got a good pile. Mike had enough Budweiser purchase points to buy us two; I'm sure he still has enough to get you one—you know, if you want one," he stutters, his cheeks getting red.

Violet takes the towels, unsure what to say.

"Um, so I was going to go ride my bike. Would you like to come?"

"I don't have a bike," she says stupidly and his blush deepens.

"Oh, I thought maybe you'd want to sit on the handle bars—"

"BUDDY!" Mirage roars.

"Uh oh. Didn't clean up my cereal," he says and bolts away.

Violet realises she's trying to fight away butterflies in her stomach.


	9. Chapter 9

Violet has fallen into a routine here at Terra Firma: work while the sun is up, play when it goes down. She makes quick nightly calls to her family, lying about what she's really doing, about where she really is. The reality of the life she has in Metroville is composed in studying legal books, practicing writing case documents, and hours of university classes. Here on this farmstead, she follows the laws of the fertile soils, not the laws of men in suits. Here on this farmstead, a farmer is a lawyer.

Sometimes she dreams about being a hero, a red suit and purple forcefields, and tonight is no different. She's leaping from rooftop to rooftop—

There's knocking on her window that wakes her from the almost restless sleep. She rolls over and there's Buddy, standing on the roof, waving at her through the glasspanes. Her heart startles, recognising the same smile he's giving her is one from Nomanisan. After catching her breath, she unlatches and opens the window.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says with a grin.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses.

He squats in her window frame. "I wanted to take you somewhere."

"Where?" she says with cool suspicion.

He fidgets a little, wiggling the window hinge with his index finger. "It's a surprise!"

"What about Babe?"

"Asleep. Come _on_!" he whines impatiently.

She weighs her options: he's a cold-blooded killer, but she's a super and can protect herself, so she decides she'll go with him, see what exactly he wants from her. She crawls through the window and follows him down the rose trellis. They pad carefully across the gravel, around the south side of the house, and past the vegetable garden in the back; as they reach the edge of the corn, his large hand wraps tightly around hers, gentle enough not to crush her delicate fingers. Suddenly they're sprinting through the tall stalks of corn, their bare feet beating the earth with imprints of their soles. They're headed west and after about a few miles, they've reached the edge of the corn and are in knee-high grass along a worn path. She can see a few cottonwoods looming in the dark, obviously where they're headed. She's amazed that Buddy can keep up with her at this distance; she's had over a decade of intense physical training with the NSA to make her a finely tuned machine that can run on empty and here he is, a normal—

'_Oh, wait. He has those legs,'_ she remembers, realising he's not tired because he literally **is** a machine.

They reach the trees and stop abruptly at the edge of a large gape in the earth.

"The ol' swimin' hole!" he said proudly, pointing to the black surface below them.

"You didn't tell me to bring my bathing suit," she says, almost angrily.

He doesn't seem to notice her tone. "That's because we skinny dip."

He's out of his jeans remarkably fast and gives a running jump into the water with the shout of,

"CANNONBALL!"

"Is it cold?" she asks nervously once he surfaces.

He treads the water and she can't help but stare at the pale freckled body in the dark water. He smiles reassuringly. "No, it's great. You'll **love** it."

"Turn around," she orders, unable to back down from his challenge.

"Yes, ma'am," he says with a grin and salute then turns around.

She carefully stashes her nightclothes against the tree trunk and flings herself into the water with a loud splash. The water is perfect, like slipping into a lukewarm bath. She lets out a shocked gasp for air, her eyes going wide as she pulls out of the water and into the moonlight. Buddy is smiling at her and she can't help but smile back.

They spend almost an hour in the dark water, swimming and treading before they both decide it's time to head back. He very politely remains in the water, facing away from her while she gets back into her clothes and she does the same for him.

They run back through the corn, heading towards the rising sun that lights the early morning sky better than the full moon did. They break through the tall maize stalks and stop abruptly in the pumpkin patch. Violet's toes sink into the soft, black soil and the shirtless ex-supervillain turns back to her.

"I have to show you something. It's really cool."

She nods and his large hand takes her small one; he leads her though the rows of vegetables towards the barn.

"What is it?" she says, suspicious.

"You'll see!"

They round the large building to the north face, stopping in front of the red wall and Violet gasps at what she sees.

"Oh my god."

Buddy grins, looking quite pleased at her reaction. "Cool, huh?"

The mural overwhelms her. "Have you been painting this?"

"Yeah." He smiles at his handiwork. "Babe never comes around to this side of the barn and from a distance it just looks like weird shadows cast by the silo and windmill."

"Oh my god. That's…" she paused as she caught herself in time. Her fingers trace the life-sized silhouette of herself.

"That's Incredigirl," he agrees.

"And her mom… and Dash…" she murmurs, touching each one.

"Hah! I knew you were a fan!" he says triumphantly, jabbing a finger in her direction. "I copied the poster made when they fought the Omnidroid in Metroville."

"It's _beautiful_," she murmurs.

He looks surprised, the cockeyed smile still on his lips. "You really think so?"

Suddenly she realises that the front of her shirt is soaked from her wet hair and the fabric is plastered across the small peaks of her breasts, that he's still holding her hand and she doesn't want it to stop just yet, that her face is burning red and it's light enough now for him to see.

"I really need eight hours of sleep," she says and runs back to the farmhouse, leaving him.


	10. Chapter 10

Mirage is carrying a basket of tomatoes, humming the show tune from "The Price is Right". It's another blissful day in her artificial paradise, everything calm and beautiful as always. She's leaving the abundant garden for the house when the bottom of the woven grapevine breaks and the tomatoes spill across the rich soil. She leans down to pick them up when she notices the formation they've made. A spider's abdomen, a walking staff, a goat's horn—

She jerks her head towards the north where, sure enough, angry violent thunderheads have built. She abandons the tomatoes and runs over to Violet, who is about twenty meters away, fighting weeds trying to over take the sugar beets.

"Violet, there's a tornado approaching. The cellar isn't stable, so we need to get into the barn."

Violet looks startled and Mirage holds out her hand, which the young Super quickly accepts. They run towards the house, their bare feet squashing the fallen tomatoes and as they pause in the kitchen to grab Buddy's medicine out of the fridge, Violet asks,

"Are we safe in there?"

Mirage quickly forms a plan. "Here's what we'll do. You're going to make the biggest force field possible—if it's big enough to take the barn, great, if it's only big enough to cover the three of us, whatever. I'll make an illusion that'll make the barn dark and Buddy won't be able to see what you're doing. Understand?"

Violet nods at her, a terrified look on her face. Mirage realises that the girl is scared and carefully takes both of her hands. She has a talent of convincing people and now is a perfect time to use it.

Gently, she says to the younger woman, "We're counting on you. I _know_ you can do it. Just believe you can."

Violet still looks scared, but replies, "Okay."

Mirage takes her by the wrist and they run out the front door. Buddy is tinkering with the truck parked beneath the apple tree, singing a very monotone version of a Tim McGraw song and Mirage yells,

"Buddy! Mike just called from Salas! A tornado is coming! Leave the truck!"

Buddy kisses his fingertips, then touches them to the rusting blue paint, a final goodbye. He runs towards them and Violet hisses,

"Wait a second! Nobody called here; how do you know—"

Mirage shakes her head to silence her and promises, "I'll explain later!"

The three bolt towards the rickety old barn as the wind begins to wail. Mirage can tell that the tornado, which has formed off in the distance, is moving fast and it will only be a matter of minutes before it's upon them. They roll the barn door shut and in the dark, huddle in the center of the shelter on their knees like small children. Buddy swoops her up in his arms as large hail begins to assault the roof. Mirage gives Violet a slight nod and by pure thought alone, she has everything around them plummet into darkness. Buddy makes a fearful noise as the light seems to disappear and Violet looks around frantically, obviously in the dark, too. Mirage can see perfectly fine, however—she can't be deceived by her own illusions.

The clattering of the hail is scaring her and she hopes that Violet creates a shield in time to protect them, because she knows the roof isn't as strong as it ought to be.

Mirage watches Buddy reach over and gently squeeze Violet's hand momentarily, and the girl's eyes get as large as saucers, her pale cheeks flushing an intense scarlet.

"Here it comes!" Buddy yells and pulls Mirage close.

Mirage's hand reaches out, grasping Violet's wrist tightly, hoping the girl understands that NOW is the time! DO IT!!! It sounds as though they are standing between passing trains, each going at the speed of sound and honestly, she is scared. Violet's eyes close and bright purple orbs explode from her palms so brightly that Mirage clenches her own eyes shut. She begins to count in her head like she's meditating, just pretending like it's early morning and she's already done her yoga and oh god the noise is so loud! The counting is starting to calm her though and it's helping her keep track of time. She reaches nine hundred and twenty-five when the noise stops completely; opening her eyes, she whispers,

"I think it's passed."

Buddy lets go of her and Violet's breathing is ragged. Mirage tenderly touches her shoulder and nods approvingly while Buddy peeks through the old slatted wood of the barn.

"It's gone," he says in awe.

The two women follow him over to the door and they roll the heavy wood open. For the first time in her life, Mirage's jaw drops. She doesn't speak, her brain having a hard time interpreting what exactly she's seeing. She runs out to the tall apple tree and climbs up into its branches, Buddy and Violet following close behind. At the top of the mighty fruit tree, amid thick leaves and still developing pommes, they look out across the vast openness of their Midwestern lands. Mirage rubs her eyes, unable to believe what she is seeing.

"Oh my gosh. At least a mile-wide circumference has been untouched," she stutters.

"That's impossible," Violet whispers shaking her head.

Buddy declares, "Amazing! Like the tornado didn't even touch down!"

Mirage exchanges a nervous glance with Violet, who seems as confounded as her. Buddy seems to take it in stride, as always, and leaps out of the tree, leaving them alone to discuss what has happened. Mirage stares at the black-haired Super, _**needing**_ an explanation for whatever the hell she's seeing. Violet leans in close and whispers,

"Sometimes when I'm scared my shields get powerful, but never like this."

Mirage raises an eyebrow thinking of how her Buddy touched Violet momentarily. "Maybe you had a boost of confidence."

Violet looks away as below them, Buddy cheers and hugs the hood of the old truck.


	11. Chapter 11

It's the middle of August and Mirage is carefully tending tomatoes on the back porch. Violet joins her, tying the ever-growing stalks to the bamboo stakes.

"Violet, how much longer did you plan on staying here at Terra Firma?"

"I have to go back to school at the start of September. Maybe a week."

"The county fair is this Friday. I wondered if you wanted to go."

* * *

Friday morning arrives and the farmstead is electric with excitement. Violet is with Mirage in the master bedroom—her white-haired friend is trying to get her in the right outfit. Mirage holds out a red-checkered shirt and a blue-checkered shirt.

"You take the blue one—it'll make your eyes really stand out. Besides, it would be best if you avoided wearing red all together."

"Bulls?" Violet grins.

Mirage laughs. "Something like that, _Incredigirl_."

* * *

They park at the edge of the field because those spaces are reserved for all the previous year's blue-ribbon winners—Mirage is apparently the baker of excellent cherry pies. Buddy carries a large pumpkin from the bed of the truck to the judging booth, their hopeful for the largest vegetable/fruit category. Mirage and Violet escort two picnic baskets of baked goods as well, the scent chocolate chip cookies and snickerdoodles haunting with memories of Mom in the kitchen. Violet shakes those thoughts away and wanders over to the rides.

* * *

Dusk approaches and Violet's already had a good time getting sick on the Tilt-A-Whirl (twice) and has finished a dinner of kettlecorn, cotton-candy, and funnel cakes; she's sitting on a hay bale marking the edge of a makeshift dance floor, happy couples kicking up the dirt and grass clods. Mirage is at Mrs. Garfield's quilt exhibit and god knows where Buddy is—

'_When did I stop thinking of him as Syndrome?'_ she wonders to herself.

Over the speakers plays the Beach Boys' "California Girls." Someone in blue jeans and a brand new white t-shirt approaches her, boyish grin on his face.

"May I have this dance, California Girl?" the redhead asks.

She scowls. "_No_."

"Come on! Don't be shy! It's a hoedown! Lots of fun!"

He doesn't wait for her answer and sweeps her up, spinning her around with his large hands on her waist.

"Admit it. You like me," he whispers as he puts her down.

Violet stands on her toes and lets her lips join his. She doesn't know what she's doing or why, but in the clean summer air, it feels right, so good, like she's been waiting her whole life to do this.

"Told you," he whispers, his eyes alive.

"I admit nothing," she whispers back.

"Let's go to the truck."

The sneak out of the fairgrounds, giggling and exchanging nervous grins as they run through the packed-down field serving as a parking lot. In evening light they approach the old truck; its bed is covered with a thick layer of hay, originally there to ensure safe delivery of the massive pumpkin. Now they're going to use it for the more direct meaning of "roll-in-the-hay."

"Won't your girlfriend be mad?" she asks as she climbs into the truck bed.

"She's not my girlfriend." Buddy looks surprised at what he's said. "She's not my girlfriend."

Violet's shocked at how happy this news makes her and her hands begin to tug at his shirt while he's managed to get her jeans unbuttoned, so she shimmies them off. He pulls open her shirt with a finesse she never expected and dips his head down to run his tongue across her breasts.

"Wow," she utters.

He lets her fall back onto the bed of straw and unbuttons his jeans, jerking them down.

"You're the prettiest girl I know," he announces and she believes him.

The lights from the destruction derby and Ferris wheel cast shadows at odd angles and as he pants, she thinks that it almost looks like he's wearing the eyemask that he used as Syndrome. And that it feels even better knowing that he's a villain. He's inside of her and she's practically over the moon in pleasure. Her legs wrap around his waist and she's moaning into his neck; his large fingers are wrapped up in her hair and he's kissing her so deeply, so passionately, that she just wants this to never end.

"I'm not on the pill!" she pants, knowing it's terribly unromantic, but he feverishly nods, his eyes still closed, beads of sweat on his forehead.

He pulls out and she reaches down, more than happy to assist. He gives a strained noise and she arches against him as he spills himself onto her belly, stickiness that's a combination of the two of them. He rolls off of her, panting and she has a wide grin on her face. He finds her hand and holds it delicately.

"I liked that," she whispers finally.

"Good. I liked it, too."

The stars above them shine bright and clear; Violet concentrates on the carnival music in the distance.

"We should probably get our clothes back on," he says and she agrees.

She finds the situation strange and as she wrestles her jeans back on, she ponders the situation. Tony had been her first, an obvious end to the way they played each other through high school; then there was the fellow undergrad who liked old movies just as much as her; after that she had a one night stand with a guy in her pre-law class—that was just a build up of hormones.

But tonight was different.

She had just had sex with a man she had all figured out and she never really knew.

She had just had sex in the bed of a truck, on hay no less.

She had just had sex with SYNDROME.

She starts to giggle, which build into an ecstatic laugh; Buddy looks at her funny, then begins to laugh, too, though he obviously doesn't know what he's finding funny.

Wouldn't the NSA be _**mad**_?


	12. Chapter 12

Mirage watches the two from her bedroom window. Buddy's got Violet on the handlebars of his bike and he's riding around in wide circles in front of the house. She's laughing and he's grinning ear to ear. Mirage can literally feel the control slipping from her grasp and she's afraid of the change; she doesn't know if she'd be happy to turn the responsibility of Buddy over to someone else, or if she still needs to protect him.

She flees from her post and hurries down the stairs and out of the house. She has to be close to them, but she also needs to get far away. She approaches them, her sandaled feet crunching over the gravel of their driveway and she can't get her fingers to unclench from fists.

"I'm going to Lander. I need to pick a few things up in town. Will you guys be okay without me here?"

Buddy stops the bike. "Yeah. Ooh! Will you get me some more wife-beaters? Mine are all dingy and—"

"Yes, I will. Just toss your old ones into the rag pile," she says and turns to the girl. "Vi, get the cooler out of the kitchen."

Violet nods, hopping off the handlebars to leave them alone. Mirage grabs Buddy by the arm and drags him along with her to the truck.

"Buddy, for the love of god, don't make her call you Mr. Incredible," she says, crossing her arms, realising this is the only real advise she can give him.

"Okay," he says nonchalantly, rolling his eyes.

She frowns. "I'm serious, Buddy. Not everyone is as tolerant of your Super obsession and I can guarantee that that would freak her out more than you could possibly know."

He throws up his hands defensively and scowls. "Okay, okay!"

Violet runs over to her and hands her the large ice chest. Mirage toss it into the back of the truck and pulls the keys out of her pocket.

* * *

His fingers sift through Violet's hair as they watch Mirage drive off. He's fondly stroking the handle of his bike and she leans her head on his shoulder.

"You really love this bike don't you?"

It's teal and a beach cruiser. "Yeah. I've got it working really smooth and when I take it to the gully and go down hill, it really feels like I'm actually _flying_. Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Not as crazy as you might think," she mutters.

"Have you ever wanted to fly? Like a Super?" he asks curiously.

"Sometimes." She _has_ to change the topic. "So what do you want to do?"

"Let's go on up to your room. I want to see if your bed is as comfortable as mine."

She stares at him in disbelief. Without a doubt that is the cheesiest thing she's ever heard. However she follows him into the house. Up the stairs and into her bedroom, which she's never been in during the day, just when she goes to sleep and when she wakes up.

"It's too hot to be doing this," she insists just as a cool breeze blows throughout the open window.

"We'll take it slow, baby," he says smoothly, kissing at her neck.

She's skeptical. "Slower than the fair?"

He nods. "No pig rutting, I swear."

She lets out a melodious laugh and he lifts her, tossing her playfully onto the bed.

"Ah need yew outta yer clothes, little lady," he says, exaggerating a Midwest twang.

She doesn't dignify his accent with a verbal response, but strips out of her shorts and tank top. Suddenly he's on top of her, warm, thick, and male.

"Oh, Violet, I could make you feel like a queen," he purrs, grinding against her.

'_Queen of the Unseen,'_ her nickname echoes in her mind.

"Oh, yeah? Why don't you show me?" she challenges.

"Maybe I will," he sneers, showing a hint of the nastiness she's spent her adolescence remembering and fearing.

"All talk and no action," she scoffs and suddenly she's enveloped in a white-hot passion.

"Action? I'll show you action," he says fiercely.

Buddy's hands are calloused, but are surprisingly deft, flitting across her skin. Thick fingers pinch lightly at her nipples, stroke softly at her thighs, trace featherlike across her cheek. Now he's adding his mouth to the equation, a hot tongue dragging over her belly, a set of rounded teeth nipping at her collarbone, a pair of thin lips against hers.

He finds his way out of his jeans and into her, eliciting a loud moan that reverberates through her whole body. They find a rhythm and Violet simply holds onto him; in this moment she needs to be saved and he might just be the person to do it. She could drown herself in this ocean, just surrender and belong to him. She could forget Metroville and Incredigirl, just put law school out of her mind and live in this Middle-of-Nowhere.

The air in the room shifts between hot and comfortably cool with the breeze ushering itself back and forth through the window. Outside a lone bird sings and the heavy corn stalks sway, brushing against one another. There is a silence over the farm, their heavy breathing and fervent moaning melting into the placid nothingness of a hot August day.

Violet supposes that this is heaven, a slice set aside for her to enjoy. The bed creaks and groans at their movement,

His fingers are intertwined in her hair and he smells of sweat and rich farm soil. His mouth is sucking hard on her neck and she can feel the minute capillaries breaking to leave a mark. Her feet are locked tightly around his waist and she can barely keep her eyes open. Beads of perspiration are trickling across her skin, making her feel slick and hot.

There are three words balancing on her tongue, threatening to spill out and embarrass her, so she bites her lip and pretends that she never thought them in the first place.


	13. Chapter 13

Mirage still hasn't returned by the time they're done, so they decide to go out to the swimmin' hole. They walk through the cornfield hand in hand and Buddy plucks a flowering weed, tucking the pretty blue blossom behind her ear. She realises she's smiling adoringly at him and she has to turn away. When did she start feeling like a schoolgirl? She can't possibly be that charmed by him, can she?

When they reach their journey's end, they perch themselves on a low hanging tree branch and look down at the pool of water. His hand rests on hers and her legs swing back and forth as the warm summer are blows tendrils of loose hair across her shoulders and collarbone.

"I like to come out here and think," Buddy says and then turns to her, a bashful look on his face. "Ever since you got here, all I can think about it you."

She turns her head away and pulls her hand out from under his. This has gone too far for too long.

"Buddy…"

He gives her the boyish smile she daydreams about. "I'm serious, Violet. You're the most amazing gal I've ever met."

"Buddy, stop," she pleads.

He cups her chin. "It's true."

She jerks her head out of his grasp. "Buddy, STOP. You don't know me. You don't know what you want. You have no idea what you really want!" she shouts before she realises what she's doing.

His nostrils flare. "Why are you acting like this? You don't know me!" She can tell by the way his face falls that he knows something isn't right. He can tell that she does know him.

"Right?" he asks once again.

She suddenly feels cold, like she's been submerged in icy water. She wraps her arms around her and tries to avoid his eyes, but she _loves_ his eyes and doesn't _want_ to look away.

Buddy's face crumples, like he wants to cry. "You _don't_ know me, right?" he asks again, pleading, begging.

She's quiet; she doesn't want to answer him honestly. She wants to drop out of this tree and into the pool below them, sinking to the bottom like a branch. But this charade has simply gone too far for too long and she knows that he knows. Lying isn't helping and even though it's not any easier, or kinder, or better, telling the truth has always been hard for her.

"I did know you before all of this." Her voice is thick and the words hurt as they come out of her throat.

She looks away from him, knowing that his mind is trying to solve this bizarre equation. That's what he's good at—solving things.

His investigation starts slow. "Did I hurt you?"

"Yes!" She whispers, her voice breaking slightly.

He takes her hands in his. "What did I do to you, Violet?"

She looks away. "You tried to kill me and my family."

"What?"

"You held us hostage and after we escaped, you tried to kidnap my baby brother." She feels sick. "You were a _villain_, Buddy. You were Syndrome."

The look of confusion is replaced with a wrinkled nose, skepticism, and narrowed eyes. "You're a liar. Syndrome tried to kill the Incredibles. I would never want to hurt Mr. Incredible. And I don't have any powers."

"You don't have to have powers to be bad," she says, suddenly feeling old and defeated.

"I'm a good guy, Violet. And besides, if I'm Syndrome, why would I want to do anything to you, to your family?"

Violet reached into her cutoff's pocket and pulled out her mask.

He looks scared. "What is that?"

Her fingers feel the smooth material and solemnly she places the mask on her face. She looks up at him and she's not sure if she's still Violet.

"Buddy, I'm Incredigirl."

His face breaks with a nervous grin and he gives a trill of scared laughter. "No, no, this isn't happening. Syndrome was a maniac," he says firmly and she has to look away from him.

"Buddy, I'm _**sorry**_."

His voice becomes insisting and pleading. "I can't…I can't be Syndrome! Mr. Incredible is my idol! I…I love you Violet!"

Incredigirl turns back at him, very surprised. "Love?" she echoes.

"I _love_ you." He looks crestfallen. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to stay here with me, or if we could go back to California together. That's why I brought you out here, to tell you!"

"Buddy, we can't—"

He pulls at his ginger hair. "I know! If I had known I was Syndrome, I wouldn't have thought any of this."

She pulls out the flower he placed in her hair and stares at it, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Buddy… I'm sorry."

He stares off into the distance, his face pale behind his many freckles. "So, all my feeling were one sided then. Me being in love with you."

"No. I think I'm in love with you, too," she whispers.

He gives her an incredulous, hurt look. "How could you love me? Knowing who I REALLY am."

She doesn't know. "You're Buddy."

He covers up the Mr. Incredible insignia tattoo on his arm with his calloused hand. "God, seeing this on my arm must make you sick."

She gives a weak smile. "No. It's one of those unfunny ironies."

His eyes have started to water and he pulls a ratty bandana out of his jeans' pocket, wiping away tears that threaten to roll down his cheeks.

"I don't want to leave you out here, but I need to be alone," he says hoarsely and before she can say anything to comfort him, he's climbed out of the tree and has taken off running through the large plains of tall grass.

She wants to chase after him, she wants to shout out for him, she wants to be close to him. And for the first time in her life, Incredigirl cries because she feels like the villain.


	14. Chapter 14

Violet gives it an hour before she goes out looking for him. She's taken off her mask and returned to her civilian alter-ego, the one that Buddy fell for. When she finds him, he's standing behind the barn, looking up at the mural with dried tear tracks on his cheeks. She stands next to him and finds his hand with hers.

"This is going to sound crazy, but if you really wanted…"

"Wanted what?" he croaks, still looking at the mighty silhouette of Mr. Incredible he had painted.

"I know the necessary paperwork to make both of us disappear, if that's what you'd want to do." Her face goes red, realizing she's totally out of line for a hero and blurts out, "Nobody says we have to stick around. It could just be us. I know I'm a hero, but…"

"You're terrible," he scolds playfully and as he breaths in, it sounds like he's shuddering. "No, Violet. Maybe in some time long since past I'd ask you to, but I did some really awful things; I'm sure there are plenty of families and lives I disrupted and I bet they'd like some closure. I've got to do the right thing."

Something inside of Violet breaks. Everything she's ever hated, everything she's **ever** hated is destroyed in that single sentence. Years of wanting Syndrome being brought to justice and now it's finally happening, but she realises she should have been careful with what she wished for. "No one would believe that the almighty Syndrome is willing to go to prison," she said hoarsely.

"Think about it like this, sweetheart: you turn me in and you'll get more praise and accolades than you'd have thought possible."

"I don't want to make my name off your punishment."

He looks down at her as he squeezes her hand. "You're a really great gal, Violet."

* * *

Mirage is surprised to see Violet's car in the driveway when she returns form Lander. And she's even more surprised when she finds Buddy and the young Super sitting on the steps of the front porch, hand in hand and looking quite sad.

"I called Triple A," Violet says quietly as she approaches the house.

"Going back to California?" she asks, trying to ignore the panic rising inside of her.

Now Buddy decides to talk. "We're going to go together, Mirage."

Mirage stiffens at this, but keeps her exterior cool. "You know my name. Did your memory return?"

He shakes his head. "Violet told me."

She turns to look at the girl, a knot forming in her throat. "You've ruined _everything_."

"I know. I'm sorry," Violet replies, lowering her eyes to the dirt.

"I needed to know, Babe," Buddy quickly protests, standing up and moving towards her. "I can't live here in paradise knowing what I've done, so I'm going to go back to California and I'm turn myself in. It's the right things for me to do."

"That's because you're a good boy, Buddy," Mirage murmurs, her hands cupping his face.

He gives her the sweet smile she has become so accustomed to. "I'm not going to mention you because it's your choice to go to jail."

She nods her head, feeling numb. "If that's what you want to do."

"Mirage?" the girl says, standing up as well.

"Yes, Violet?" she says, wanting to hate her.

"I love you," Violet says, throwing her arms around her. "You're the sister I've always wished I could've had."

"I feel the same way," she whispers softly into the girl's ear, unable to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks.

Violet pulls away, wiping her own eyes. "I'm going to go put our stuff in the car."

Buddy and Mirage watch the young woman hurry over to the Mitsubishi, where she's apparently put Buddy's suitcases and hers. Buddy reaches out and touches her shoulder. " Thank you for taking care of me this whole time. You did a good job."

"Of course," she agrees.

Buddy looks a little puzzled—she can tell this because he's getting that look on his face where he's thinking as hard as he can. "Babe—Mirage—_whatever_, did you ever love me?"

"Not in love, but I did, I do, care for you. I always have. I always will," she says in a sad, fond way. Her eyes go back to Violet who is trying to covertly wipe away tears. "Now Buddy, do you love Violet?"

Buddy looks at the young Super and Mirage can see that he's simply love struck. He gives a boyish smile and answers, "Yeah. She's pretty great. Fantastic."

"I want you to realize that loving her is going to be hard and painful at times and if you so much as hurt a hair on her head, I will find out and I will kill you," she warns in the deadliest voice she can manage at the moment.

"Okay, okay!" he grumbles. "I'll see you around, 'kay?"

"Maybe."

Mirage watches him get into the passenger seat and grin at the young Parr girl. Mirage gives a slight wave to send them on their way. Once they're out of her sight, she goes back into the house—the empty house—to make a call on the teal phone that hangs on the wall in the modest kitchen.

"Hello, ma'am," a voice on the other end says clearly and she closes her eyes, trying to imagine she's back on Nomanisan, trying to imagine she'd never been here.

She can picture the worker on the other end of the phone, ready and willing to jump when she snaps her fingers, perfectly trained to obey her every command. She hasn't done that in many, many years.

But she opens her eyes because she needs to be all business. "I need you to bring a crew out here," she says softly as she plays with a lock of her hair. She opens the fridge door to make sure the kids took Buddy's medication. They did. "I need some minds erased."


	15. Chapter 15

Mirage watches Incredigirl get sworn in, a Super on trial like her father was so many years ago. The white-haired beauty is sitting in the farthest back row, just another curious citizen who wants to watch the trial of the decade. She's dressed up in her Sunday finest and a hat with a veil to cover her eyes; she doesn't want anyone to really get a good look at her.

The prosecuting attorney is a slick, well-groomed man.

"Now, Miss Incredigirl, would you explain to the court how you came to find Mr. Pine?"

The largest and most controversial part of the trial is that the Incredigirl is acting as a character witness for the-man-formerly-known-as-Syndrome. However, Incredigirl is also Violet Parr, law student, and despite the fact she's in full uniform she's also a girl secretly in love. She leans towards the microphone.

"I was on a trip. I can't reveal the location as it would give away too much personal information."

"So it was a personal trip." Violet doesn't answer so he turns to the Honourable Judge McKeen. "Your Honour, I haven't asked for location."

The judge seems to agree. "Answer, Miss Incredigirl."

Violet nods.

"Please note that the witness is nodding yes. So he knows your secret identity?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you aren't afraid?"

Incredigirl looks at the jury firmly. "He's **not** Syndrome anymore. He's Buddy Pine, a man who loves to farm, a fan of the Incredibles, a hard worker. He's _not_ a fighter. He had plenty of opportunity to kill me and come after my family, but instead all he wanted to do was watch "Rock of Love" with me and plant tomatoes."

The attorney does not look convinced. "You expect us to believe that one of the worst villains the country, nay, the **world** has ever seen is a nice, friendly man?"

"I do. I'd stake my life on it." The heroine turns to the jury once more, trying to appeal to them. "Look, I know it sounds ridiculous. If I thought for a second, if I had the slightest moment of doubt that this was the same man we fought back on Nomanisan, I'd have notified the authorities in a heartbeat."

"So you think you're a good judge of character."

"An excellent one."

Mirage looks at Buddy's lawyer, a very attractive man whose skin is as dark as his eyes. He is loosely affiliated to major criminals, but he's good at his job and right now he looks very happy with the young Incredible.

The prosecuting attorney clears his throat and asks innocently, "How old are you, Incredigirl?"

She looks up at the judge. "I can't answer that as it gives too much personal information away."

"Very well." The attorney tries again. "You look young."

"Thank you. I've been using a new moisturizer."

The jury chuckles and the lawyer glares. Buddy grins.

"What I meant was, you seem a little young to be a good judge of character."

Violet's face becomes serious. "Sir, I'm also a little young to be fighting maniacs by myself. I'm also a woman, whom the US Army wouldn't even allow to fight on the front lines in Iraq. But does that stop me from doing the job that you and the rest of Metroville has asked me to do? No. I live a normal everyday life like you; I have to make friends, make decisions, and interact with people all day long. I have to know whom I can trust and whom I can't, so you can bet that I've learned how to judge character fairly well. Better than most people."

'_That's my girl,'_ Mirage thinks, a smile beginning to form.

"How exactly did you meet Syndrome?"

"I met Buddy because I got heat stroke." She looks at the courtroom stenographer. "Please note for the record that I was not treated by medical professionals, so there will be no hospital record."

Mirage nods. All Supers have to clarify when they have said something that would normally be considered too much information, something that might give away a secret identity. This way an innocent person who resembles the Super won't be hurt by a vengeful villain.

Incredigirl continues. "Mr. Pine took care of me when I was sick and helpless. If he were an evil man, imagine what he would have done to a lone, lucid girl who had no way to defend herself. He could have tortured, raped, or killed me. Instead he offered me a clean bed and enough fresh water to help me recover from heat stroke. I think that that shows a lot about his character." She looks at the former nemesis. "He doesn't remember being Syndrome. He has amnesia, just like the state's doctor said."

The Incredible family sitting in the front row looks a little uncomfortable. Mirage suspects that they aren't pleased with their daughter's feeling towards their old rival—she knows that Violet told them. She probably even used the L word, too. And Violet does love Buddy, Mirage knows this. It doesn't seem to have split the family apart, but there is a visible strain.

The attorney is silent and Incredigirl shifts in her seat. She's smart enough not to let her eyes linger on Buddy, so she won't give anything about their relationship away. Mirage stretches her legs and recrosses them, wondering what the man is up to. She pulls an altoid tin out of her purse and shakes it a bit, the rice inside moving around. She opens the tin and looks at the arrangement of graisn; ever since Buddy left, she's really been devoting more of her time to her divination.

A wave and something that looks like a paisley design. She cocks her head slightly, realising that it's a feather. She closes her eyes and smiles. They're good signs; maybe after the trial finishes for the day, she'll head down to the local bar and place a large bet on the outcome. She can always pick a winner.


	16. Chapter 16

"_I'll sleep alone each and every night,_

_While you're away don't forget to write…"_

-*--*-**-

Mirage watches the news religiously, waiting for the results of the trial to come in and finally on a Thursday, it happens.

The news anchor, a Karen McKeen, is standing on the steps of the courthouse in an atrociously pink skirt-suit. "And the verdict is in! Buddy Pine, known to most as the Supervillain Syndrome, will be serving five years in a Federal Supervillain Prison."

"Five years," Mirage murmurs.

Saying that outcome was lucky was an incredible understatement. With all the crap he had pulled he was looking at a life sentence minimum. But obviously the masses were swayed by his amnesia.

'_Good_,' she thinks. _'Buddy doesn't deserve prison. Syndrome does, but not Buddy.'_

He's become the butt of late-night TV's jokes and the subject of many petitions, but the American justice system has made its decision and Buddy will be a free man in practically no time at all. And he's become a hero of sorts, trying to justice for the wrongs he'd made when…when he wasn't well in the head.

McKeen is running towards him, trying to get an interview as he comes out of the courthouse, handcuffed and smiling. The crowd that has gathered to see him is split between chanting, "I love you!" and "I hate you!" Pretty co-eds are flashing the redheaded criminal and old churchgoers are holding picket signs that say "Buddy Pine is the Devil!" The security brought out for the event is a little less than what Mirage would like and she says a quick prayer, lighting a candle on her temporary apartment's mantle. If anything were to happen to him, she would just die. She'd already lost him once to Syndrome and then again to Violet, anything more would be too much. Of course he's wearing a bulletproof vest under his custom tailored suit, made to accommodate his broad shoulders and tiny waist, and there are snipers on the roof across the building, but all it takes is one fanatic…

Mirage gives a disgusted laugh. Syndrome was a fanatic and look at all the chaos he had brought about. Trials, farms, fear, omnidroids, heroes, villains, love…

Buddy's got a grin on his face and out of the crowd darts a young woman with long black hair who wraps her arms around his neck. The policemen try to pull her off the handcuffed criminal and Mirage can see the girl is whispering something into Buddy's ear. The police are tugging and reaching for their stun guns, grabbing at her legs and arms. Finally the girl let's go and is held back while Buddy is placed into the back of a squad car, a placid smile on his face. McKeen doesn't persue the strange girl, who seems to have disappeared—she's just another crazy fan girl who has an inappropriate fetish for bad boys.

Mirage turns off the TV. Buddy is safe now. Her job is done.


End file.
